Zen Report: Ain’t easy being high maintenance

A reader wrote in saying I must be “an extremely labor-intensive girlfriend.”

If he meant I have a searing temper, am brutally honest and like to push buttons, then he is very perceptive.

My first boyfriend dealt with my cauldron of crazy before I learned how to bring it to a simmer.

I remember walking on the Pasadena City College campus with “Jasper.” I had watched MTV the day before and learned that the “rock on” sign is also a Satanic symbol. I shared this nugget with my conservative, Christian boyfriend.

“Yes, I know that,” Jasper said. “Now stop it.”

I kept pulsating the hand gesture inches from his face.

“I mean it, Zen. Quit it,” he said as we got into his white Toyota Celica. “You know I’m religious. You’re being disrespectful.”

Jasper was very devout. Every Sunday he got out of bed just in time to arrive at church right when service ended. His version of a sermon was a restaurant meal with childhood friends.

“It’s just a symbol,” I said. “We humans assign meaning to icons. What if I said this means devil?”

I held up my pinky finger as though I were having British tea. Then I started waving my right hand in his face. His cheeks turned red. I put my left hand to work, too.

Jasper stomped on his brakes, I jolted forward and he squawked at me. My smirk disappeared. The light turned green.

I was seething with indignation. How dare he fling expletives at me? What gave him the right?

I got out of the car when it stopped and started speed walking. Jasper rolled down the passenger window and asked me to get back in. I kept marching. He parked his car and tried to catch up with me. I walked faster. Bus 268 headed toward El Monte stopped on Baldwin Avenue. I got on. He followed me and sat a few seats away.

As my stop approached, I pulled out my wallet and removed Jasper’s high school senior portrait. I dropped the photo into his lap on my way off the bus and walked home. That was my way of saying we’re over.

I strolled home and he limped to my best friend’s house; she lived a block away. Jasper needed a ride back to his Celica.

Over the years, I’ve learned to be less of a mad hatter. I’ve learned to use words, but that has also gotten me into trouble.

An out-of-town trip to Qingdao, China, morphed into a serious talk about the state of a budding relationship.

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“Why do you like me?” “Mario” asked.

“I don’t know. I tried not to like you,” I said. “I mean, if we had kids, I would worry they might come out ugly. But I overcame my stupid hesitation. I can be myself around you. We have good conversations, and I feel safe around you.”

I thought I had just told Mario that despite his looks, we had undeniable chemistry and a strong connection.

He was silent for our entire hike up Mount Lao. At the top, we watched a turbulent waterfall drop piercing water droplets into the rock below. We made up afterwards, but my words continued to etch into our bedrock until it cracked.

Zen Vuong is a staff writer for the Pasadena Star-News. She and “Mario” are still good friends. You can follow Zen at Twitter.com/ZenReport or on Facebook.com/ZenReport.